Where the Path Leads
by Sanguine Sanctus
Summary: *Witcher Crossover* As the days of Japan's isolation came to a close so began the era of exploring this strange new land. Where as traders find coin and adventurers find excitement there are some who only find monsters. Though what is to be done when hunters of different lands cross paths, two different breeds who uphold their own principles, can a lone Witcher survive for long?
1. Prologue

**Where the Path Leads**

_**Prologue**_

A deep chill fell across the foreign realm of Nihon, the snow was like that found in any other place though the unfamiliarity of the country made the cold seem to bite deeper. Though the nature of the Path was one where the individual cared little for comforts, for there was only the Path to walk and the deeds to be done. Exploring the recently accessible land was difficult if you did not know the native tongue, which proved a challenge for those who hailed from the West. Thankfully hunting monsters was easier than developing language skills, there was no barrier such as this when tracking prey, evidence and scents could not be veiled by foreign words. Months had passed travelling along roads and footpaths, shying away from the newly developing cities, it was difficult enough being a foreigner though being a foreign mutant made it difficult to form any links with the locals. However experience also warned that distant villages held superstitions and taboos that quickly lead to ill thinking along with violent retort towards that which is different. There would be no help for some time, not even a base of operations to regularly resupply, so for the time being it was a trial of wits and endurance.

For it had been less than a year since arriving in the country of Japan, coming into port a few months after it's isolation had been ended. It was one of the last few places unexplored by the West with documentation that was required including cartography, surveys as well as the flora and fauna. Though one on the Path followed the work, no matter where it was. Doing so in new lands required the formula of research, time and a web of trusted associates, all of which were essential now more than ever. Yet time was not always plentiful, it led to the ruin of villages or the deaths of children, often one had to work within the confines of the situation at hand not the situation that is ideal. While coming to a recently modernizing country had certain downsides there was one reassurance and it was that having more developed weapons made light work of most contracts that had to be brought in. Although whether the same rules still applied was the purpose of being here, this was the trouble with new places, there were always new rules and new monsters. Too much time had passed to say "Otherwise things would get boring", this was by far the sentiment of the young who had yet to suffer being in the unforgiving abyss of the unknown.

Soon rest would be required, not that it was wanted, it was simply fact. An adherence to the policy of biology, one that was not always welcome in the face of urgency. Although weeks on the trails made one crave a warm fire and a cool drink, things that were hopefully still valuable to the common folk of Japan as they were across the rest of the known world. After a night of rest it would be a simple case of returning to the road, this is the way, the Path all Witchers follow.

_1853_

The dull crunch of snow under foot could be heard before the sliding door was pulled back, the tell tale sound of guests and coin, though what entered the Inn was a dark figure who brought a cold air with them fittingly so. Entering the threshold they closed the door behind them, black leather gloves concealing the flesh from the biting cold that threatened anyone foolish enough to not protect themselves properly. For a moment they stood in confusion, or so it would seem, it was hard to tell as a heavy hood draped the stranger's face in shadow yet they soon remembered and began to remove their long boots that were well travelled by the looks of them.

'Welcome, may I take your ba-'

A comely middle-aged woman appeared from another door within the Inn and stood in shock as her guest pulled off his hood. While everyone had heard that the country was now open it was still a shock to see a foreigner so far inland. Although this is not what concerned the woman, her worries lay elsewhere, what did concern her were the predatory eyes that reflected the light just as a cats would when as he looked around the reception area. While his skin seemed a healthy and sun kissed there was an undeniable deathly look in his complexion, giving the strange more a further unsettling aura. Had it not been for this his pushed-back hair and short beard, of a soothing deep brown, she may even think the man attractive.

'Hello. How much. Room?'

His broken speech however threw off the intimidating presence she had felt. 'Excuse me Sir?'

'Ah'. He rummaged through a pouch hanging from his belt before pulling out a small book. 'How much would a room be?'

The man was not fully versed in the language which brought out the woman's motherly side, seeing him struggle to communicate. ' I see Sir, come with me'. She made sure to gesture as she picked up his boots and stored them within a cabinet before moving behind a desk of sorts, although it was quite low. She sat on the floor and began accounting for his individual needs to come up with a price, trying to get the essentials he may need but be unable to communicate while trying not to seem like a vulture.

As he waited the man removed a large bag from his back, even as it was gently placed down its weight could be heard with a dull thud upon the floorboards. 'Could I bath please?'

The woman once more looked at him confused before remembering his predicament then she just smiled. 'Of course though our bathing areas a shared space. Is that okay?'

Watching this once terrifying man's face go through a state of confusion to uncertain fear made him much more approachable, more human. 'Hmn...Yes'.

Although he seemed uncertain of what he had just agreed to she tried to make the transaction of money as easy as possible, thankfully he had a decent grasp of their currency which aided the process. The roads along the hills and mountain passes grew quiet over winter so she was happy to get all the business she could, it was uncertain times after all the country was on the verge of radical change.

His host then showed him towards his appointed room, where he placed his bag in the corner of the room, once there he removed his travel cloak and knee length coat. A few moments after he sat to rest his host slid the door open to provide a pair of robes, he presumed to that they were for going to this bath.

'Goodnight Sir, please enjoy your stay'. She was on the floor in sat in seiza as she placed the folded clothes into the threshold of his room before bowing to signal her leave.

'…...Goodnight'. The Witcher was glad that he had encountered someone kind, considering the stigma he had received throughout his life. Although he was somewhat sad to know it would only be till the following morning before he once more had to set out into a strange place, however beautiful it might be.

Steadily he began removing his clothes in favour of the comfortable robe that would be worn on his way to and from the baths, which felt like luxury after going for so long without clean and warm water to bathe in. A hefty breath was exhaled as the soft silk encompassed his body, it may only be one night but he would be sure to enjoy it. It was less than a minutes walk to find the bathing area, which provided a place to put the bath robe he was provided until he needed to return to his room. Once free of clothes he entered the steamy bathing room, a foreign way of bathing for sure but certainly an interesting one. While the pool was deep enough to sit in it was also big enough that the mist concealed the rest of the room from the eyes, along with other occupants if they were there, a pleasant scent lulled his body and mind to relax. Inspecting the water he found pink blossom petals floating on the surface, the extra money he had paid was paying off, it made a change to not be ripped off on lodgings.

His peace was disturbed by the rippling water, probably someone entering from the opposite side. Closing his eyes, he was going to make sure to avoid any unpleasant confrontations. Yet things were hardly so easy, that was not his fate, this became more apparent as the faint scent of blood began to reach his senses. All it took was a stronger inhale, opening his sense of smell to the plethora of aromas surrounding him. The senses of a Witcher were so strong that they were invasive to everything around them, so much so that he even tried to ignore most of what he accidentally came across. What he did discover was that the blood was actually old, a few days to be exact, meanwhile the person across him was female and had at one point been sweating profusely probably due to extreme physical activity. Could it have been a fight or a skirmish? There was too much to consider and too little definitives so he was content to simply keep tabs on his bath partner, ensuring no bathroom stabbing occurred tonight on the off chance this woman was a murderer.

The water stirred once more, suddenly with a splash, the woman thrust towards him with the telltale cry of steel cutting air. She was fast and had he not already had an eye on her things could of ended badly, though preparation was the way Witchers stayed alive. Before the blade came inches from his throat his hand had already been thrust forward in the Aard sign casting a blast of force forward, knocking the wind out of his attacker, blasting the woman's lithe body backwards. He became a blur dashing forwards and mounting her prone body grasping her throat in one hand while holding the other over her face though just as he did the tip of her blade pressed against his throat.

For what felt like hours they simply stared into each others eyes, both fierce and grimacing as they did. Pink met Yellow in a heated clash.

'Damn demon!'

'…...What?'


	2. Frozen Winds, Lonely Howls

**Where the Path Leads**

_**Frozen Winds, Lonely Howls**_

What she thought was the fierce mask of a warrior did little to conceal her true emotions, at least from the man that loomed over her, pheromones, pupil contraction, sweat and an erratic heartbeat were enough evidence that this woman. No, barely that, she was terrified beyond reasoning. Her blade began to shake along with the rattling of her breaths. She was for from certain about killing him, no doubt in that, her resolve would of pushed her through otherwise. Slowly he began to pull away while gently placing a hand upon her blade, enforcing a psychological barrier between them, it was like trying to convince an elk you had no intentions of butchering it for meat. For whatever reason this person, who was able to almost over power him, was in the mental state of prey. He sat down away from her but not so far back that he could not see everything clearly, her comfort was not a concern only his safety. Once he was seated away from her she visibly relaxed before she placed her blade on the wooden step beside her, as she did a heavy breath left her mouth. The two watched each other intently, trying to find the right questions to ask, or perhaps the right way to ask them, either way both seemed to be at a loss for how to deal with this situation. Taking keen note of the woman before him the Witcher was fascinated by her white hair, pale skin and bright pink eyes. Seeing her was like witnessing a full bloom of a blossom in winter, something he decided would be quite beautiful to see if it compared to this interesting woman.

'You...Called me a demon, why is that?'

As though knocked from a trance she covered her modesty once he spoke, she too seemed to be interested in the subject before her. 'Yes, though wrongly so, it seems I am mistaken. Unless you are some odd form of demon'.

He sighed heavily which alarmed the young lady, what she presume to be a question that perturbed him was simply his desire to have a dictionary on hand. 'No I am not a demon...Not fully human either'.

Predatory eyes keenly observed every twitch, breath and flick of the eyes. Rarely by choice and often by habit. While it scared her to think what could make a human a creature comparable to a demon she was growing less afraid and more intrigued. 'I am surprised you know about the demons but I am shocked to see a foreigner so far inland'.

His gaze became vacant for a moment, as though a bitter thought invaded his mind. 'I know about many "demons", different cultures have whole rosters of monsters. It is my job to kill ones that are harmful, archive information about those not yet encountered and help preserve those who are sentient. Though it has been difficult being entirely out of place here, although it is beautiful there is rarely anyone who shows me much kindness'. The Witcher was surprised by his good use of the language, he was glad for the practice he was getting.

'There are such people far West? Are they all like you with demonic eyes? Surely you have not faced the demons we battle here, at least I would hope that they are confined in this land'. She seemed upset by the prospect that a creature as dangerous as these "demons" were rampant in the world.

He smiled, it was nice for someone to talk with him about his nature and profession not at him. 'First of all we are called Witchers, our kind nearly died out long ago though scientific revolution through the renaissance and some lucky explorers managed to discover an process that creates people very well suited to the task of monster hunting'. He pointed at the medallion etched with a wolves head. 'We have different schools who resurfaced too, though not all as they once were, the most authentic is the school of the Wolf. Probably because there was more archived in their old forts and in some rare journals scattered throughout Poland and Germany'.

She shuffled closer, leaving her sword behind. 'This gives you demon eyes?'

He chuckled. 'No, not demon eyes, they are more like a cats. My vision in pitch black darkness is quite clear, it makes hunting for food and foraging much easier'.

Delicate fingers played with his medallion, she was very close. 'Tell me more, how were you changed?'

That was difficult, what more could he say, there was only a simple way to put it. 'We are stronger, faster, better honed, longer lived and sturdier than any human could hope to be. As far as I know a Witcher never dies of old age...'.

She watched his grim smile crease his travellers beard. 'I see, thank you for being so open with me, could I possibly enlist your aid for hunting a demon? If not it would be no hindrance though your general company would ease my journey too. Perhaps we can both gain something from this venture?'

'That would help me but can you tell me why you are so scared of these demons of yours?' This seemed to distract her from toying with his medallion. She took a seat beside him and leaned back, letting her arms spread out with one resting behind him.

'It may be easier if I tell you their weaknesses and nature. A demon drinks blood and consumes humans to survive, the more they eat the stronger they become. While impossible to kill with normal weapons there is a way to slay them. This must be done with a weapon made of Scarlet Crimson Ore or Iron Sand of the same nature however the killing blow must be a decapitation, any other strike is meaningless and eventually the demon will regenerate their wounds then eventually kill their enemy or go on to devour more humans'. He had to admit this was worse then he expected. 'Thankfully the sunlight kills them making the day safe for the most part, though caves and hidden shelters have been found as preferable dens for demons to hide during daylight'.

It was not the vast capabilities of these creatures that left the Witcher in a state of deep contemplation, no he had encountered vampires before but these sounded like ones he had heard tales of, what he concluded was that it seemed to be some form of creature that had the crossed nature of a vampire and a necrophage. Though to need a special weapon to deal with them? Surely his meteorite steel sword would be of some use? If not that then silver? How much of what this woman knew was truth sullied by myth and superstition? Surely decapitation was not the only way kill them?

'I see you do not fully believe me?' She giggled while standing up, less concerned for her modesty this time. The pale woman retrieved her blade and presented it to him before taking her seat once more, now fixated on him as he held her dearest possession. Taking the blade he admired the work of the craftsman, it was well made scabbard and grip although the guard was not to his liking he could tell that no part of the weapons was neglected. Once he unsheathed the blade he gasped in surprise, his jaw becoming slack realising just how little of her weapon he saw, the blade was shaped like any other katana though this blade looked and felt like ice, a gentle mist poured from it as though mist on a winters morning, though the blade had a look and texture of frozen water, some parts even seemed transparent while others reflected his image in a frosted mirror.

'This is a beautiful blade, well made too, though I assume there is some kind of magic or special property to these Scarlet Crimson swords?' His inquisitive attitude was having a positive effect on both of them, for instance, they were sitting close enough that their flesh began to meet but neither noticed.

Her hand rested atop his to help twist the blade in the way she desired. 'No two are the same, although many may look it, once the wielder gets strong enough the blade changes colour. Nichirin Blades are often called colour changing swords, no one can really tell what colour anyone will receive, though certain individuals have had swords change in ways that are unique much like everyone in my family'. Her chest pressed against his arm as she leaned closer. 'The Scarlet Crimson Ore is very special as it comes from either the Sunlight Mountain or any others in the right position to be in sunlight all year round. It was found that this special ore constantly absorbs sunlight and provided us with the best means to created weapons to battle the demons otherwise our only option is to ward them off with wisteria, they cannot tolerate it, the smell is revolting to them and it acts as a poison against them'.

Every faculty of the monster hunters mind was focussed on retaining this information so that he could put it to pen later, ensuring he remembered everything in crisp detail. This information could very well save him while he travelled across Japan, he could imagine little worse then fighting one of these creatures unprepared. 'While this is all very educational. I have to wonder what type of girl bathes with a sword and who lets one so young know so much about fighting demons'.

Her lips were cold and her breath turned his hairs on end. 'What makes you believe I am a just a girl?'

His instincts thrashed about his mind like a wild beast, adrenalin had already began pumping through his body as everything in this moment of time became crisp and clear. Though for an unfathomable reason he did not dare move, as though doing so would cause something bad to happen, her lips were close enough that he could feel her smile.

'I think I have said more than enough, curiosity is something I indulge in and it is rare I meet someone on the trail who too hunts monsters, honestly myself and my family are often avoided by other demon slayers though your circumstance is different'. She removed the blade from his grasp and set it aside where it would not get wet. 'Do not worry, we are not avoided out of spite or fear, we simply do not abide by the same philosophy'.

Slowly fingers brushed against his abdomen, cool to the touch much different to the warm waters enveloping them. Her other hand ran along his neck before diving down the valley between the muscles of his shoulders. 'Now that you know I am not a scary little girl, will you indulge my curiosity?'

Having forced the strength to look into her eyes he now noticed the glint of someone far older than what she seemed. 'I am flattered but...You are a bit young'.

Freezing and wet her tongue made a trail along his jaw, his wide eyes causing her to giggle. 'A side effect of my families techniques, a special secret, it causes us to age slowly'. Faster than he could stop she slid into his lap, biting her lip as she felt him press against her cold body hot and throbbing. 'Does that dispel your moral dilemma?'

Unfortunately for him he now noticed just how pert and pink her developing breasts were. 'You are certainly the most attractive person to throw themselves on me but right now, as I am, I do not think this is the right thing to do'.

Her face became concerned, gentle, as she pressed her forehead against his. 'Ah, you are alone, there is a fear that what good people you meet there is no doubt that you will drive them to hate you. No matter if you will it or not, am I right?'

He tried to pull his eyes away from her firm gaze, like a beam of light that pierced his soul and presented his true feelings. 'Witchers do not get happy endings'.

Cold fingers, delicate fingers, grasped his chin to keep him facing her. 'Perhaps not where you are from but this is the land where the sun rises, how could a future here not be brighter?'

With a delicate voice, soothing words and a gentle touch how could anyone not melt into her? Melt he did as she gently leaned her lips into his, enjoying the light scratch of his beard. His rough hands ran up her thighs, squeezing the cool flesh and thoroughly enjoying the sensation, when he came to her plump rear his hands instinctively squeezed caused her to moan into their kiss. They pulled away only for him to assault her neck with kisses and bites, all of which greatly pleased the woman in his arms. In turn she licked and sucked upon his neck and shoulder though with his aggressive ministrations she seemed unable to fully commit to her actions without quivering or moaning, while not new to sexual intimacy she certainly seemed acquainted. She ground against him causing a deep growl to resonate from his throat, igniting a primal desire within her body, causing her to crave him deep within her.

'P-please, do it, make me yours. Breed me, claim me, just do it'.

Like a candle cut at the wick his body went still and his mind became an abyss. 'I...Think we should travel tomorrow, sorry, I need to sleep'.

The sudden shift in mood had already caused her to leave his lap, she shuffled a fair bit away too, watching his attentive and inquisitive eyes become vacant, a void, that seemed to not account for her cheeks that steadily began to become wet with small rivers. Faster than she could of noticed she was alone in a bath that seemed much colder than she would of liked, far lonelier than she needed. Curling up into herself she allowed the rivers to flow freely as too did her sobs and cries, though she tried to muffle them she wondered if it mattered, did anyone care if she cried?


	3. Shimmering Steel or Gleaming Silver

**Where the Path Leads**

_Shimmering Steel or Gleaming Silver_

A long and quiet night followed the what had transpired within the secluded baths of the inn but despite this when the youthful woman had asked him to accompany her with hunting these demons there was little hesitation, though apprehension still lingered in the air. The Slayer noticed that her Witcher companion travelled with a large backpack, most likely for all his equipment, but what from she saw there were many tools she had seen used in forms of medicine. Clearly his skills lay not in the sword alone yet across many areas, perhaps this would be what the Slayer Corps needed? To encounter a different way of fighting, though she doubted her family would ever consider going back even if they could reconcile their differences with the organisation.

On the road they made a amusing pair. Her garbs were styled in a winter theme, primarily white and light tones of blue to accentuate the cold atmosphere it tried to represent. Meanwhile her haori was an artful mixture of dead branches and snowflakes, though the Witcher would never have thought it possible if he had only heard of this outfit regardless she looked beautiful still. The western man wore colours of black, grey and dark brown that hardly stood out to any degree although the cool woman noticed that the clothes blended some form of uniform, she suspected military, with practical clothing styles as to not stand out too much.

While there was tension between the two, many cases of it all of which were unresolved. Though by walking beside him for hours on end the Slayer began to notice subtle details about this Witcher that had gone unnoticed during her shameful time spent with him in the bath. Each of his steps held the poise and grace of a feline delicately walking through dry leaves, as to not alert the prey. His body was always held in a manner befitting something that was both fluid and steel, tension could be seen at certain points though it did not hamper his seemingly natural grace. If this translated into his fighting then she had high hopes for the outcome of the hunt, considering everything she had investigated thus far, the demon should be dealt with swiftly.

The trail took them towards a dense forest where upon entering each of them took on a different aura. In the dark of the woods the Slayer noticed how the eyes of her companion constricted as his ears turned to hear even the slightest sound, a true hunter at work, though the true primal nature of is kind could not be hidden as deep breaths were taken through his nose. A growl both foreboding and inspiring shook through his chest.

'The smell of blood is pungent here, not much wildlife either, stick close'.

Speechless she simply nodded in affirmation.

'What is your name?'

Her eyes bright and curious looked to him in surprise. 'Fuyumi...And yours?'

'…...Vuk'.

A name his foreign accent seemed to resonate with, unlike his traversal of her mother tongue. 'Vuk, a strange name, befitting a strange fellow'. His brow bunched together. 'That is to say you are quite interesting, foreigner, it would be boring to be in the company of any other'.

After confusing him further she increased her pace and strode ahead. 'Damn women...'.

Unbeknownst to him she dashed ahead to conceal her growing want of him now that she knew that strange name, a name that would not be gone from her mind, the sound of his true accent had made her blush. While her name had left him repeating it, trying to learn how to best roll it off his tongue.

With thanks to Vuk's keen senses they were able to discover the lair of the demon, soon enough that a few hours of sunlight still remained. Before them was the dark maw of a cave, deep and unfathomable was the darkness biding its time to devour them. Fuyumi made sure to rest while preparing herself for the coming conflict though as she did her attention was on Vuk as he went about his own preparations. Out of his large bag the foreign man produced two swords of a design unknown to the Slayer, the difference in their weapons did make her curious, one had a crescent moon engraved on the guard while the other bore the image of a star. This caused her to sit closer to him, as he rested in a position similar to seiza, each blade looked long in their scabbards, a guess that was proved true once they were unsheathed, doubled edged blades that each came to a sharp point. One blade reflected what little moonlight did manage to pierce into the forest this is the one that was marked with the crescent moon. The other almost seemed ignited by moonlight, the slightest tilt causing the reflected light to wave and shimmer, this one bore the symbol of a star.

Although Fuyumi had doubts about their ability to harm, or even slay, a demon she had faith in his ability to endure combat with the creatures. Leaving to make her own preparations before the coming conflict, though reluctant, she went to practice her Full Concentration Breathing, less out of a need for comfort it was a meditative exercise to ease her into the hunt. As she sank further into her families' traditional katas her world became sharper and gained more clarity, everything became light focused through the clearest glass. She was so consumed by this practice that her partners own practice went unseen.

Mistaken for dance by many, thought of as impractical by it's witness, yet those that faced it could never regret their folly. A shimmering field seemed to surround the Witcher as he pirouetted, twisting and turning with a grace that betrayed his build, a mortal man would say there was no blade to be seen in hand though any who had seen a Witcher in battle would be quick to denounce such thoughts. The wind whispered of the terrible wounds done by the enchanted blade, though they were faint and sharp, with such force did each blow come that pressure rushed forth to meet any foe that dared stand before it. Only one blade was used at a time, two blades of the same length would be redundant though dagger and sword styles had been absorbed by the older Witchers who took on a scholarly role. Though Vuk had come to prefer his personal mix of classical sword play and the modern art of marksmanship with firearms, they proved useful for their shock and awe plus few expect a man carrying two swords to draw a gun.

In his peripheral he could see the youthful beauty become surrounded by an aura of frost. The path she trod during her practice of forms leaving frosted covered blades of grass in her wake meanwhile her breathing was audible with each exhale carrying a threatening chill. Each cut and slice left a sparkling trail it was a display that almost distracted him, almost, though surprise was a concept Witchers had to temper early in their lives lest it be the death of them. Being surprised was fine. Letting it stop you from moving is what would kill you.

Once both had settled from their preparations they gave each other a firm, set look, one that said. 'You best be ready'.


End file.
